Phone Call
by Chou ni Natte
Summary: Quatre gets a phone call just as things get interesting… *3x4*


**Title:** Phone Call

**Author: **Keitorin (Chou ni Natte)

**Fandom:** Gundam Wing

**Pairing: **Trowa x Quatre

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** Quatre gets a phone call just as things get interesting…

**Note:** Used my Adj-Noun/Two-Word Generator (tanomono dot net/generators). _Results:_ Quatre x Quatre, phone call

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim to own Gundam Wing. I write for fun, not profit.

* * *

Quatre absently took another sip of the coffee that had been provided for him from the cart. It had a stronger taste than he normally liked (though he normally preferred coffee altogether), but he'd take what he could get.

The company was in the middle of a big deal, and he could count on his fingers the hours of sleep he'd gotten in the last seventy-two hours. It didn't help that he'd already been having some...problems for a while before that. It wasn't easy being an adult in his position with no time for the type of release he craved. The rare times he had to himself, it just wasn't enough anymore. He wondered if it'd be better if it were with someone else, but there was no chance of that. He wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone he knew on L-4, nor was he interested in one-night stands.

He would just have to suffer. Rubbing his puffy eyes, he resolutely went back to filling out the endless amounts of paperwork.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Quatre found himself feeling quite strange. Warm, too warm, and a little tingly. He frowned as he realized he might be getting sick. This really was the _worst_ time for that to happen.

He decided to try and head it off from the beginning and get a break at the same time. He'd been sitting at his desk for too many hours without one of those.

He slipped out of the building with none the wiser. He had been a Gundam pilot after all, and knew a few tricks to safely escape the clutches of his sisters (though he'd already had practice with that in the past anyway, which was not as easy thing to do with twenty-nine of them afoot).

He made it safely to his apartment, waving the doorman off when the man gave him a questioning look at his flushed face and slight panting.

Entering his room, he headed straight for the cabinet with the needed pills. Before he could shake some out and swallow them dry, a vibrating against his leg distracted him. His cell phone. Had someone seen him slip out after all? He may be feverish, but he didn't think he'd been that sloppy.

He didn't bother to check the I.D. Only his sister had this number, as well as the other Gundam pilots, and they'd already checked in with him with month, or he'd checked in with them.

"Hello?" He answered, and was startled to hear the slight slur in the word. Hm, this was not good...

"Quatre?" Not his sisters after all. It was Trowa. Odd, he usually only called once a month.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked, and had to set down the bottle of pills so he could go over to the bed and lay down. The tingly feeling was getting stronger. It was kind of like he'd been plugged up into an electrical circuit.

"I was calling to ask if you wanted to come visit. There was some extra-"

Whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of Quatre making a sound halfway between a hum and a moan. As the other man had talked, he'd been running his hands over his stomach in an absent way and his fingernail had caught an erect nipple through his shirt. It had felt like someone had touched a raw nerve ending.

He could feel his face flush at the realization of the noise he'd made, and then the horror as he realized that he was half-hard.

"Shit!" He yelped and jerked up into a sitting position.

He was pretty sure that fevers didn't cause _that_ reaction.

"_Quatre_, what's going on?" The voice on the other end was concerned and demanding.

Quatre bit his lip to hold in a whimper. He tried to imagine something disgusting. Dirty socks. Duo's dirty socks? No, he was used to that. Wufei and Sally having sex. Ew. Wufei would kill him to know that he was thinking about that. Still, nothing. Desperately, he brought out the big cards. A vision of Trowa rejecting him and walking away.

Quatre winced at that one, but it didn't affect his libido's plans one bit.

"Oh god." He whispered as he tried to get a hold of himself, forgetting the caller listening on the other end for a moment. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, but one area more than others. He was starting to feel like he was being tortured, and if he didn't touch himself soon he really would explode.

"Quatre!" The voice on the other end snapped, reminding Quatre that he had an audience. That thought only made the whole thing worse. The voice of the one he loved with all of his heart, combined with the vision of the other man watching him while he--

"Nng!" He grunted, digging the palm of his hand into his erection and gasping at the surge of pleasure and pain.

"I...shit...I can't stop it..." Quatre gasped into the phone, his voice sounding almost pleading. He was going to hate himself later, but for now he felt like nothing mattered but relieving himself.

"Is someone there with you? Where are you?" Trowa was sounding slightly panicked now, and if Quatre weren't so out of it he might have been surprised at the state the other man was in.

"No...no...I think...I think someone slipped me something..." Quatre managed to a moment of feeling proud for being able to think while in this state. A drug...an aphrodisiac...

Quatre's thoughts faded away as raised his hips off the bed in order to get his pants out of the way. Soon, he had his hands wrapped around his flushed cock, slowly pumping himself in a haze of pleasure.

"Ohh." He breathed, and heard a small sound from the other end. Quatre gasped out the other man's name, and the sound came again, louder.

"Please!" Quatre whimpered, not quite sure what he was asking for, but needing it desperately all the same.

"Q-Quatre." Uncharacteristic stutter.

"Pleasepleaseplease..." Quatre begged, dragging a hand up to his suit jacket, pushing it aside to get to a hardened nipple to twist it.

"Ahh!"

The man on the other end gasped, and then Quatre got what he realized now that he wanted. Words spilled from Trowa's mouth, telling Quatre what to do, where to touch himself, where he would touch him if he were there. It was overwhelming, and Quatre wondered if, at the climax, he really would die. At least it would be Trowa killing him with words, and not out on the battlefield with a gun (he vaguely recognized this as a selfish thought).

It wasn't long before Quatre couldn't hold it anymore, pace speeding up until the pleasure built at the base of his spine, the sound of Trowa's heavy breathing in his ear -- and then he was coming so hard that his vision was filled with white sparks. He blacked out to the sound of a keening noise over the line, phone lying on his chest on Speaker.

* * *

He woke too soon just thirty minutes later, and for a moment he wondered if he'd ever climaxed at all. His thighs were wet with come and he'd drooled a bit down his chin, but he was half-hard again; the drug was still working away inside him. He groaned and pressed his hand against his forehead.

The phone shifted with him and jabbed him in the neck, and his eyes flew open as he remembered what had occurred minutes before. He wondered if the floor could possibly open up and swallow him before he had to talk to the other man again. It was in no manner the way he'd planned to tell Trowa his feelings for him.

He waited five minutes, but nothing unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on how you looked at it) happened, except his cock giving a twitch every time he replayed the sounds Trowa had made as he helped Quatre get off.

Before he could get further into that thought again, he picked up the phone, and was surprised to see that it was still connected.

"Hello?" He asked tentatively.

"Quatre!" A relieved reply. Then the other man explained to him just what he needed to do to get most of the aphrodisiac out of his system. Quatre grimaced, but agreed and hung up with assurances that he'd call back once he felt better.

After he finished puking his guts up and cursing the son of a bitch who'd drugged him, he went back to the bed and reclined on it. As the memories replayed, he felt his face flush in embarrassment. How would he ever face Trowa again?

Then he realized what he'd missed while feeling sorry for himself. The other had responded to him. He hadn't _had_ to help him, he could have just called one of Quatre's sisters to come check on him, but instead he had talked Quatre through it. And...and despite Quatre's single-minded focus on his own pleasure, he knew what he'd heard. The other man had gotten off as well.

* * *

Quatre later found out that it had been the food server who had drugged him with his coffee. She'd been coming and serving him for a few months and had apparently developed a crush on him. She'd thought he'd go to the bathroom when he started to feel the effects, and she'd been going to slip in after him. Only, she hadn't counted on him wanting a break due to his lack of sleep.

Quatre just felt stupid for not realizing his coffee tasted stronger than normal. He'd just figured that someone had noticed he was working harder and had decided to provide him with more caffeine to help him get through it.

Never again.

…But it had served to prove to him that it really was better with another person. He wondered if Trowa thought so as well.

* * *

When things were finally settled, Quatre drudged up all of his bravery and made the call.

"So...did you still want me to visit?" Quatre asked, and held his breath as he waited for the reply.


End file.
